


Found Within

by Mishafied



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Newt is a precious cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafied/pseuds/Mishafied
Summary: When Newt sacrifices his freedom to a monstrous beast to save his brother's life, the last thing he expects is to find something there that is worth saving.Luckily for Percival Graves, Newt believes he can be saved, even if Percival himself had long ago lost hope.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I thought no one would really want to see a Gramander Beauty and the Beast AU but it turns out people do and so I've bamboozled myself into writing it. There will be differences from the classic tale, of course, but the heart is there. <3 Enjoy!

Theseus Scamander never found out what startled his Graphorn that night.

 

It didn’t matter now, he supposed. The creature had spooked and run off, and though Theseus had tried to whistle it back over, there was no response aside from the silence of the heavy blanket of snow over the landscape. The trees stood dark and bleak against an even darker sky, stripped of their leaves from the chill of winter, like ominous figures standing watch.

 

But Theseus wasn’t one to be frightened by dark settings, eerie noises, or childhood legends of haunted woods. He shivered, looked around, and took stock of his current situation.

 

He was in the middle of the forest in the dead of night. There were inches of snow on the ground, and more coming down in heavy, wet flakes. And he was fairly certain he’d torn _something_ in his right leg when the Graphorn bucked him off, because every time he tried to move it, it resulted in a vicious stab of pain.

 

There was no way he could make it back to town like this. He needed to find shelter; the woods were dangerous for very concrete, non-superstitious reasons, especially at night, and especially for someone who was already injured. And that wasn’t even considering the threat of freezing to death, which was becoming more and more real the longer he sat there, his fingers and toes rapidly losing feeling.

 

He had no time to worry of ghosts and specters when the temperature alone was enough to put the fear of death into him.

 

“C’mon, ‘Seus. Up you go,” he said to himself through gritted teeth; if he used his own nickname he could imagine it was Newt saying it instead, Newt urging him back up to his feet. Newt, the brightest ray of sunshine in his life, the little brother whom he’d raised since they were both far too young to be without a mother and father.

 

Newt needed him. Dying out here simply wasn’t an option at all.

 

He picked a direction and struck out. Every step sent a lance of pain up through his knee, but he tried to focus on peering through the trees, though the moonlight reflecting off the snow was his only source of light. His lantern had been hung on the Graphorn’s saddle, and said Graphorn was probably galloping back to the safety of town by now.

 

Newt had always been better with the dumb thing. She never threw Newt, never spooked that badly when the younger Scamander was in the saddle. Theseus wasn’t sure if Newt had a gift, or if it just seemed that way because Theseus was cursed in comparison. Maybe both.

 

”Definitely not s-sneaking her any more apples on the side, that’s for damn sure,” he muttered to himself, his breath coming out as puffs of cloud in the frozen night air. He was going to have a long talk with Newt about taking their Graphorn back to basic ‘don’t throw your rider and run away into the night’ training.

 

Just when he was beginning to think he would have to find an outcropping of rock to hide from the wind and hope for the best, he saw a stone wall through the trees. He took a deep, shaky breath and forced himself to keep moving- one step at a time, his ears, toes, and fingers numb as he followed along the wall to a tall iron gate.

 

He immediately recognized that gate; he’d seen it once before, from a distance. He remembered asking his father about the castle beyond, only to receive a deep frown in reply.

 

“The royals closed the whole place off decades ago,” his father had said then. “The whole place is said to be cursed. Either way, don’t go trespassing.”

 

Theseus had shrugged it off. He was just a child then, and he hardly cared about rumors and ghost stories and tales of unnatural shrieks coming from the castle in the woods. He passed it all off as the overactive imaginations of bored villagers. Most people assumed that the royals had up and left for a different castle out of boredom; they surely had the funds to do it.

 

At night, though, the castle was foreboding, to say the least. It looked neglected and abandoned, with ivy crawling up the outside, as if nature itself were trying to drag it back down into the ground. There was no light showing through the darkened, dirty windows, and no movement from the courtyard within.

 

Theseus would have laughed at his own nervousness, had he the energy to spare. This was his only hope for surviving the night, and he was hesitating because it was _creepy_? What was he, a child?

 

“It’s just an old abandoned castle,” he muttered to himself, pressing a hand against the gate. To his surprise, with a bit of a push the gate swung inward, carving an arch through the thick snow. He’d half expected the hinges to be rusted into uselessness.

 

He had to stop then, leaning against the gate, the pain in his leg enough to make his whole body tremble and his eyes squeeze shut. It was just a little farther- the thick castle walls would keep out the cold. He just had to make it to the castle, and hope the doors weren’t chained shut or something. If nothing else, there were stables off to the distant right of the courtyard; if he couldn’t get into the castle, the stables would work.

 

He limped through the snow across the bridge, thought the moat underneath looked like it had dried up long ago. It took him what seemed like forever to mount the few stairs up to the large wooden doors, and he pressed one hand to the iron ring hanging from the wood.

 

At one time, these doors must have been gorgeous. He could see intricate carvings, scenes of gods and goddesses of legend, fiery Hippogriffs from children’s’ stories, all meticulously detailed down to the last feather. Now, though, the wood was weather-beaten and faded, some of the carvings wiped away by wind, rain, and time. It was a shame, really; he briefly wondered why the royals hadn’t even left any caretakers to look after the place.

 

Then he quickly decided that was a thought that he didn’t want to dwell on, while standing on the threshold of the unknown.

 

 _Stop being melodramatic_ , he thought, and he pulled hard on the iron ring, expecting the old door to not budge at all.

 

It creaked open.

 

He paused, his breath caught in his throat as the smell of dust and stale air rushed out to meet him. He wasn’t sure what to do at first; he had genuinely thought the door wouldn’t open. The fact that it did left him more than a little unsettled.

 

But the pain brought him back to the moment. He needed shelter, and this was the only shelter he was capable of getting to. However eerie the whole situation was, he needed to shake it off and get inside before he froze. He slipped through the open door and let it fall shut behind him with a _thud_ that made him wince, even though the castle seemed as empty of life as a mausoleum.

 

Empty of life, but not empty of history. The entrance hall was huge, with ceilings arching up nearly four stories above; if he craned his head he could see massive cobwebs hiding faded, chipped murals on the ceiling that must have once been colorful and grand. The walls were draped in tapestries that must have been hanging there since the time of the royals, the dark colors muddied and torn with age and neglect, some in tatters nearest to the floor. The grand staircase ahead led up to a massive clock where the time was frozen at 1:13; a huge statue of a Hippogriff adorned the lower part of the central banister on the stairs, standing guard despite the fact that one wing had fallen off at some point in the decades since.

 

There was no sound to be heard, not even the scrambling of mice. The sounds from outside were muffled by thick stone walls and stained glass windows that had long since faded, the colors a mere shadow of what they once had been.

 

Theseus pulled his traveling cloak tighter around his shoulders and shivered, and not from the cold. He felt like he had walked into a tomb.

 

The pain in his leg drew his attention away from the shock at his surroundings. He stopped gawking and looked for anywhere that he could hunker down till morning came, and he saw a door off to one side, no doubt leading to a sitting room where people would have waited for an audience with the king. He made himself walk in that direction, his uneven footsteps seeming far too loud in the cavernous hall.

 

It was indeed a sitting room, the furniture still carefully in place as if ready to entertain visitors that would never come. Of course, the velvety cushions on the chairs and couches were covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, and the once lush curtains hung in tatters across a window that looked out over a snow covered courtyard; there had certainly been no entertaining here since the royals left.

 

Not even looters. The oddity of it struck Theseus so suddenly that he stiffened and looked around, and he realized why this was all so unsettling.

 

Castle or not, an abandoned building was bound to be looted in short order. The fact that this place had sat for decades, unlocked and free for anyone to enter, and yet none of the furnishings had been touched- not even the golden candlesticks on the mantle- it was too unbelievable for him.

 

There had to be a reason, and he had the feeling that reason would not lean in his favor.

 

Something moved in the darkness, and he stumbled back with a yelp and fell to the floor, landing on a thin, threadbare rug that must have once been worth more than his house. Pain shot through him like fire, and he gritted his teeth and looked up- only to find a Kneazle sitting on the arm of the chair in front of him, graceful and elegant, ear twitching, golden fur dull and mussed, and large blue eyes intently focused on him.

 

“You scared me, you wretched thing,” he said with a relieved laugh. He’d gotten himself all worked up and managed to take fright at a _Kneazle_ \- were Newt here, the man would never let him live it down.

 

The Kneazle’s tail swished back and forth- and then its eyes focused behind him and it hissed and darted away and out of sight.

 

Theseus saw a shadow come over the rug, a massive shadow that fell over him like a cold cloak, and all thoughts of his pain were forgotten. He froze, and then he heard a low growl the likes of which he’d never heard in his life.

 

He slowly turned his head, his whole body trembling with terror, and the last thing he saw before his world went black was the silhouette of a massive beast, the flash of white, sharp teeth, and the glint of golden-brown eyes glowing with fury.

 

 

 


	2. Bargains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt finds himself bargaining with a monster for his brother's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I'm under a lot of pressure at work; the next chapter shouldn't take as long, though.
> 
> Also, due to a lack of canon characters that work well for this, there will be a few OCs of mine in this just to fill side parts. Shouldn't be too obtrusive, though.
> 
> Thanks for all the support and reviews! <3

Newt wasn’t unaware of the looks he got when he went into town. He knew what the townsfolk thought of him and his brother; that they were strange, that they didn’t quite fit in around here. And Newt knew that they didn’t fit in; he just didn’t particularly care.

 

That wasn’t to say he didn’t care at all. It got to him sometimes, but at the same time, he knew he would never quite fit in and that there was no point in trying to.

 

So he wasn’t unaccustomed to the stares that followed as he did the morning shopping at the tiny market in the middle of town, making sure to pick up extra apples for the Hippogriffs, and some eggs to mix in with the Kneazle’s food, since she was old and could be very picky.

 

“Newt!” someone called, and Newt turned to find the bookseller waving him over to his small cart. “Found something on my trip to the city that I knew you’d want to buy,” the old man added, holding out a worn red book with feathers etched on the front.

 

The bookseller, Laurence, was one of the few people in town who didn’t make fun of him- probably because Newt was one of his few frequent customers in a town that put more stock in physical labor than academics. And the book he’d found did indeed make Newt’s eyes light up- it was a Gryphon husbandry guide by one of the leading Gryphon experts in the country.

 

“This is perfect!” he said brightly, digging out enough money to cover it. Laurence just chuckled as he took the coins.

 

“Knew that would make your day. Say hi to that brother of yours for me, alright?”

 

“I will when he’s back. He’s picking up a couple of Hippogriff eggs at the city market, he’s not due back until tomorrow,” Newt explained with a shrug.

 

“Oh, and you might want to keep you shopping trip short today; the baron is in town,” Laurence added, and Newt stiffened.

 

“Right. Thanks,” he said, and he cast a glance around before he started to make his way back toward the tiny house on the edge of town where he and Theseus lived. The last thing he wanted was another run in with the baron.

 

Not that there was anything wrong with him, really, he was just…creepy. And persistent.

 

“Mr. Scamander!”

 

Newt, evidently, had horrible luck. He stopped and took a deep breath before he turned around to the sight of Baron Grindelwald making his way over.

 

“Good morning, Baron,” he said, not quite making eye contact, and Grindelwald chuckled.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Gellert?” he asked, stepping just a bit too close for Newt’s comfort, like always. His eyes dragged across Newt’s form, taking in the shabby, worn clothes that had probably been repaired a dozen times over. “Still wearing those old rags? I told you that you could pick up anything from the tailor, on my tab.”

 

“I don’t need anything new. My clothes suit me just fine,” Newt insisted, already trying to edge away, but Grindelwald didn’t seem to notice. Or, more likely, he didn’t care.

 

“So humble. And so shy,” the man said, quirking an eyebrow and straightening his own immaculate jacket. He always came into town looking like he owned it- sharp suit, slicked back hair, and an air of authority that he hadn’t earned. He leaned in toward Newt conspiratorially. “I’m due for a rather large inheritance fairly soon. Just have to wait for the other party to cross the T’s and dot the I’s, so they say.”

 

“Congratulations,” Newt muttered. “I really must go,” he added, and he turned and tried to walk away, only for Grindelwald to step around him and block his path.

 

“Have you considered my proposal?” he asked with a smirk. “Come now, you could bring honor back to your family name- I know everything went south when your parents died, lost all your endorsements, but I could bring that all back. The name Scamander would once again rise to the top of society, all that power and respect rightfully returned to you. Not to mention you’d have a lifetime of the pleasure of my company, which many would consider the top benefit of the whole arrangement.”

 

Newt felt himself go tense, his throat tightening up against his will as he kept his head down. “I told you that I’m not interested. At all.”

 

“And I asked you to take the time to think it over before making any rash decisions.”

 

“I’ve thought about it, and the answer is still no, Baron,” Newt said, and he tried to step around Grindelwald again, only to have the blonde grab his arm in a firm grip.

 

“You want yourself and your brother to live on scraps and go cold every winter because you’re too stubborn to know a good thing when it’s offered to you?” he asked, his voice smooth but dangerous, and Newt pulled his arm away.

 

“I’d rather be _happy_ than sell my pride for a loveless marriage,” he shot back, and somewhat shocked by his own gall, he immediately stepped around Grindelwald again and started walking, clutching his book close to his chest.

 

“It wouldn’t have to be loveless if you weren’t such a _prude_ , Newton,” Grindelwald called out after him. “I’ll be waiting when you’re ready to see some sense.”

 

Newt pretended he didn’t hear, and instead turned the corner and walked down a couple of alleyways until he was sure Grindewald wasn’t following. He leaned back against a wall and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 

He knew Theseus was on his side, that his brother didn’t want him to marry some cocky bastard just to restore the family name and put more food on their table. Still…he couldn’t help but feel guilty, that there was a way he could provide for them better than grooming and selling Hippogriffs, and he was turning it down flat at every turn.

 

But Grindelwald gave him a bad feeling, baron or not.

 

He started to make his way back to the house again, taking the long way just in case Grindelwald was still back on the main paths. He was relieved when he finally saw the small cottage, with a couple of Hippogriffs grazing in the side yard, and the Kneazle lying on the front steps grooming herself.

 

Newt stepped through and closed the gate to the garden, and he sighed heavily as he set the bag of Hippogriff feed down in the small shed nearby. The Hippogriffs would need their daily grooming, and at least two of them were due for some lengthy exercise sessions, and-

 

He stopped thinking about the to-do list for the day when he heard a familiar snort and the rhythm of hooves on dirt. He immediately brightened up- he hadn’t expected Theseus back so soon, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

 

But when Penelope turned the corner, Theseus wasn’t on her back. He was nowhere to be seen; her saddle was empty, and the reins hung loose around her neck.

 

“Penelope?” Newt said, opening the garden gate and rushing to her. He looked past her on the path to the woods, but there was no sign of Theseus anywhere. And her saddlebags were empty, so he hadn’t even made it to the city market, or else the bags would have been full of Hippogriff eggs and supplies.

 

That could only mean that Theseus was in the woods, in the dead of winter, with no supplies and no mount.

 

“Take me to him!” Newt said to the Graphorn as he swung himself up into the saddle without hesitation. Perhaps he should have paused to grab supplies, or even a heavier cloak, but he was too worried about his brother to stop for even a moment. He took the reins and turned Penelope around, and then squeezed his heels on her sides and clicked his tongue to get her moving as fast as possible.

 

He knew the route Theseus usually took, even though he’d only gone along a few times. It was a well-worn path- but after a few hours of riding, Penelope suddenly paused and stomped her hooves at a fork in the path. One way led toward the city- the other way led deeper into the woods.

 

Perhaps Theseus had accidentally taken a wrong turn in the heavy snow. It was the only thing he could think of, the only reason the Graphorn would hesitate here; he tugged the reins and guided her down the unfamiliar path.

 

If Theseus had been out here all night, he could have frozen to death, or even been attacked by the wolves that frequented these forests; if he were injured, he might have bled out. As Newt urged Penelope farther into the thick trees, he began to wonder if he shouldn’t turn back and keep looking for Theseus on the main path.

 

Newt was too worried to notice the chill in the air anymore as the Graphorn galloped up to a large gate- one that was slightly pushed open, just enough for someone to walk through. It had to have been Theseus; who else would be out here in this ungodly weather?

 

It was when he looked past the gate that he sucked in a surprised breath and his eyes went wide.

 

There was a _castle_ there. In the middle of nowhere in the woods, an entire castle, and sure he’d heard _rumors_ , but still. It was one thing to hear stories of an abandoned, decrepit castle in the woods, and another thing entirely to actually see it.

 

It looked like it came straight off the pages of a storybook. It was drab and grey, nearly blending in with the snow-heavy clouds behind it, and dying vines crept up the sides and curled over the parapets. He couldn’t see anyone in the massive courtyard or through the windows; it seemed the place was truly abandoned.

 

Maybe Theseus had taken shelter here. He had to check, no matter how unsettling the place was.

 

He clicked his tongue and guided Penelope in closer to the gate, and he reached out and pushed it open enough for the Graphorn to step through. The snowfall had removed any sign of footprints, so he could only guess that Theseus might have found this place and stopped here, even if there was no sign of it now.

 

The wind seemed to drop ten degrees just passing through the gate, but Newt dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He led Penelope up to the bridge over the shallow moat and hopped off into the ankle deep snow, shushing her when she snorted and stomped her front feet.

 

“I’ll be back, I promise,” he said, and he gently petted her snout before he turned away to make his way up to the once-grand entrance. Off to the far right he could see a stable, and the first sign of life he’d seen- an overly skinny Hippogriff, pawing at the snow with one hoof restlessly. It barely spared him a glance before ducking back behind the stable- unusually skittish behavior for such a creature.

 

He turned his attention back to the castle; he’d never seen anything like it in his life. Stone arches decorated every inch of the castle exterior, with menacing gargoyles perched on the eaves. He could see gryphons and dragons carved into the stone in some places, but those were nearly faded away.

 

He didn’t have time to admire it, though. He needed to find out if his brother was indeed here- because if he wasn’t, Newt was running out of time to find him. He grabbed onto the iron ring on the door and pulled, and the door slowly opened with a mournful creaking sound.

 

The only light inside was the dim light filtering in through the stained glass windows, leaving the entrance hall looking like it was draped in a grey shroud. Any color seemed as if it had been sucked out of the castle long ago, and Newt jumped as the door fell shut behind him.

 

He took a deep breath, his footfalls the only sound he could hear. “Theseus?” he called out, taking a few more hesitant steps. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

 

No answer. He made his way to the bottom of the staircase and ran his hand across the hoof of the Hippogriff statue lying on the center railing of the staircase; his fingers came away coated in a thick layer of dust.

 

Something touched his leg, and Newt jumped in surprise and looked down- only to find a Kneazle winding its way around his feet. It looked up at him, blue eyes wide and intense, and he reached down and stroked the fur down its back, frowning at the feel of the mats and tangles.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve been brushed? Are you here all alone?” he asked softly, as if he were trying not to disturb the silence. The Kneazle purred, butted its head against his hand, and then took off up the stairs. Once at the top it paused and turned around, and it looked at Newt almost…expectantly.

 

And somehow, Newt knew he needed to follow it.

 

Whereas most people would laugh at the idea of following a Kneazle around an abandoned castle, Newt barely hesitated before taking the stairs up two at a time. The Kneazle ran down one hall, then another, and then up a staircase so tightly spiraled that it was dizzying to go up too fast.

 

And halfway up, he heard a cough from above.

 

“Theseus?!” he said almost desperately, trailing his hand along the stone wall as he raced up the remaining steps. At the top he found a drab cell with iron bars- and inside was his brother, trying to struggle to his feet.

 

“Newt? What in the hell are you doing here?” he asked as he limped awkwardly to the bars, and Newt took in a sharp breath.

 

“You’re _hurt_.”

 

“You need to go, before he comes back, please,” Theseus said, reaching through the bars and grabbing Newt’s hand. His hands were like ice, and he was shivering almost violently.

 

“Before who comes back? Who put you in here?” Newt asked, already looking for a way to open the door. Theseus shushed him.

 

“Never mind that, you need to leave, now-“

 

A vicious snarl shocked both of them into silence, and Newt spun around toward the sound; it seemed to have come from farther up the stairs, and he could see the shadow of someone there- someone huge, wearing a long cloak.

 

“Who’s there?” he said, and he swallowed hard, still standing firm in front of the cell door, not about to let his brother face this alone. The footfalls on the stairway were loud, and the shadowy figure moved closer- but paused just before the shaft of dusty sunlight coming in through the window.

 

“I should be asking _you_ that,” the voice said, and it didn’t sound entirely _human_ \- it was rough, almost half growl, and too deep.

 

Newt was terrified. Theseus was always the braver brother of the two, the one who always protected Newt, but…

 

But now Newt needed to repay the favor. He needed to protect his brother.

 

“I’m here for my brother. He’s hurt, he needs a doctor, not a _cell_ ,” he demanded, and Theseus grabbed at the bars in a panic.

 

“Newt, just _run_ -“

 

“He’s a trespasser!” the voice snapped, the words turning into a snarl at the end. “He walked in here unbidden, treated my home as if it were his own!”

 

“He needed shelter! Have you no mercy?”

 

Another growl, this own deep enough and loud enough to feel like it vibrated through the walls. “Leave, before I change my mind and toss you in there with him!”

 

The shadow shifted, and Newt felt his heart leap into his throat. He couldn’t leave Theseus here- his brother was hurt, he was becoming ill, and he wouldn’t last long in this cold dungeon. Theseus needed help, and to get help, he needed to leave.

 

Newt did the only thing he could think of to do.

 

“Take me instead!”

 

The shadow on the stairs froze, and so did Theseus. “Newt, no!” his brother choked out, though it turned into a coughing fit.

 

“What did you say?” the figure asked, most of the growl gone from his voice as he stepped farther down, just out of reach of the sunlight again, the edges of a tattered black cloak coming into view.

 

“I will take his place,” Newt said, and though he was trembling, his voice was firm for once in his life, his chin held high. “I- I care for creatures back home. Your Kneazle is in desperate need of grooming, your Hippogriff needs a proper diet and exercise, I…I could be useful. No need to keep someone who’ll merely waste away from an injury when you could have someone who can make use of themselves here.”

 

“Newt, please don’t do this,” Theseus begged, but the shadowy figure paid him no mind.

 

“You must promise to remain here. Forever,” the voice said, and Newt hesitated, and then took a few steps closer to the stairs.

 

“Come into the light,” he said, and the figure hesitated before stepping down into the shaft of grey sunlight.

 

Newt went pale.

 

It was a werewolf- or at least, it looked like one. The creature was massive, with thick black fur, wolfish ears, a long snout that showed hints of gleaming fangs, and golden brown eyes that nearly glowed. It wore clothes that at one time must have been intact, but were now torn and shredded, mostly covered by the cloak he wore. Each paw was tipped with vicious looking claws, and as Newt stared, the creature’s ears pressed back and he bared his fangs.

 

“Do you still wish to bargain your life away?” he said, those golden eyes intensely focused on Newt. It shouldn’t have been possible- it wasn’t the full moon, it wasn’t even night, and this werewolf was not only fully transformed, but he seemed to have full control of himself. He could even _speak_.

 

Newt realized that he would be giving himself over to a monster for the rest of his life- and he found that he didn’t even consider changing his mind.

 

“Yes,” he said with a firm nod. “Set my brother free, and I’ll stay here in his place.”

 

The werewolf snarled. “Fine,” he snapped, and he swept past Newt, towering over him- the werewolf was at least a full foot taller than him, if not more.

 

“No!” Theseus pleaded, even as the werewolf grabbed the bar at the top of the door locking it in place and pulled it free. “No, Newt, don’t you do this! It’s not worth it, please!”

 

“Shut up,” the werewolf growled, and he wrenched the door open and grabbed Theseus by the shirt, and placed his other paw on the man’s forehead. All at once, Theseus slumped, going limp in the monster’s grasp.

 

“What did you do to him?!” Newt demanded, but even as he made to help his brother, the werewolf grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the cell.

 

“He won’t remember coming here or that you’re here at all- just to insure he doesn’t jeopardize our…arrangement. I’ll make sure he gets back to your village safely, and that is all,” the werewolf said, tossing Theseus over his shoulder. “You will stay in that cell unless your services are required.”

 

The werewolf slammed the door and shoved the bar into place; it was well out of reach, and Newt probably couldn’t have moved it from this angle even if he could reach it. “Wait!” he said, the word coming out strangled as he ran to the bars and grabbed onto them.

 

But the werewolf didn’t wait. It loped down the stairs and out of sight, and Newt breathed out shakily, the bars cold enough that they hurt his hands.

 

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye- and now he would never see his brother again. His brother wouldn’t even remember what had happened here, if the werewolf was to be believed.

 

To Theseus, Newt would have just disappeared into thin air.

 

It was like a blow to the chest. Newt stumbled back from the bars and sobbed, and it was only a few steps until his back hit the stone wall; the cell was barely big enough for the small bed and chamber pot that were in it.

 

He slid down the wall to sit on the floor against it, and then he drew his knees up, buried his face against them, and tried to stifle the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.


	3. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival tries to tap into his humanity, even as Newt wonders just how much of that humanity is left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to you straight from Harry Potter Wizarding World! I spent all day drinking butterbeer and picking out a wand, so it seemed only fitting to get this chapter up here tonight.
> 
> Thank you SO much for all reviews and kudos. You have no idea how happy it makes me!

Percival paced back and forth in the lower hallway, his eyes passing over the cobweb covered suits of armor and the faded tapestries without really seeing them. His claws clicked on the stone floor, and his ears were pressed back against his skull in irritation.

 

He’d expected to just toss some food in the prisoner’s direction until he inevitably died of his injury and illness; do the bare minimum so he could at least assuage his guilt and say he tried. He hadn’t planned for a brother to come in and do a self-sacrificing, moronic rescue.

 

Now he had a human in the castle. A human who knew nothing of what was going on, one who would likely start asking questions that couldn’t be answered. Hell, none of his servants had even revealed themselves to him yet; the man might try to bolt the moment a Niffler opened its mouth and started to speak.

 

Perhaps that would be best, to just allow the man to escape.

 

But still…it had been so _long_.

 

So long since anyone else had been here, anyone from the outside. And of course it had to be someone so innocent to all of this, someone young and beautiful and-

 

Percival shook his head with a frustrated snort. He couldn’t afford to start thinking like that; it would only lead to trouble.

 

“You’re going to wear a trench in the stones if you keep that up,” a familiar voice said, and Percival looked down to see a Crup at his feet, her tails drooping toward the floor. She was scruffy at best, her fur mussed and smeared with dirt; she would have been mistaken for a stray in any city. He let out a huff and continued his pacing.

 

“It’s not any of your business, Ms. Goldstein.”

 

Tina trotted across the floor to get back in front of him and stop him in his pacing. “It is my business, considering you basically just hired him to take care of me,” she pointed out, and Percival had to bite back a comment about her using a cheeky tone with him. “And you never made any of us sleep in the dungeon when we were just your employees.”

 

“None of you were trespassers.”

 

“He was looking for his brother. That’s hardly malicious intent.”

 

Percival snarled. “He’s a trespasser and a peasant and he can _stay_ in there and think about the idiotic way he’s thrown his life away!” he snapped, and Tina backed up and whimpered. Percival had a brief, vivid memory- a familiar voice asking him to be reasonable, telling him that if he didn’t control his temper he would end up like his parents, the flash of his own claws, an inhuman shriek of pain-

 

“Mr. Graves, sir,” a gentle voice said, and Percival snapped out of the memory with a snort, looking up toward the Kneazle who’d perched on the shoulder of one of the suits of armor. It was the other Goldstein sister; her voice was so light, so comforting, it was difficult to stay angry.

 

“The young man has lost his brother and his freedom, all in one day,” she said softly. “If he’s going to stay and work here, the least we can do is give him a proper room with an actual bed in it. He’ll catch his death of cold up there.”

 

“She’s right, you know?” another voice said, and a Niffler popped up on the other shoulder of the suit of armor. “Besides, he, uh…wasn’t exactly wrong, you know. None of us are capable of properly grooming Queenie. No one here has had a decent meal in years. And Ellis…”

 

Percival snarled and Jacob cowered, scampering down to hang on the back of the suit of armor and just peer over the shoulder of it. Percival shook his head. “I _know_ the problems that we face. I’m not an idiot, nor am I blind,” he snapped, fighting the urge to bare his teeth. His temper was like a raging storm inside him, clawing at his insides, urging him to give in.

 

He’d done it once and nearly lost himself. Might have lost a close friend for good. He couldn’t give in.

 

He considered their words for a few long moments. Of course, they were right; if the man was going to live here, then it didn’t make sense to keep him locked away in the tower every night. Percival was a monster on the outside, and perhaps halfway there on the inside by now, but he wasn’t completely heartless.

 

Not yet. Hopefully not ever. He had to cling to whatever humanity was left in him. And the human in him knew what the right thing to do was- to make his captive as comfortable as possible in what was probably the lowest moment of his entire life.

 

Percival felt a sudden pang of guilt for the way he’d treated the two humans in the tower, and he made up his mind.

 

“Put him in the east wing. I don’t care where, as long as he doesn’t go near the west wing or the courtyard behind it,” he said sharply. “He works sunup to sundown as needed. He never goes anywhere unaccompanied, and he’s locked in his room every night. Am I understood?”

 

Queenie made a soft noise and pawed at the armor, leaving paw prints and streaks in the dust. “Aren’t you going to…spend any time with him?” she asked, and Percival froze and looked in her direction- only to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the dull metallic surface of the armor where the dust had been wiped away by her paws.

 

He saw nothing that even resembled the human he once had been. He only saw a vicious beast.

 

“I don’t think he has any interest in wasting his time with a monster,” he said, his tone firm, and he turned and walked away toward the west wing. His servants could handle the newcomer; there was no point in him wasting his time and possibly scaring the young man away before he could help.

 

Because he’d been right; Percival’s servants did need help. There was only so much they could do to help themselves with this wretched curse on them, a curse they’d done nothing to deserve.

 

He stormed into his room in the west wing and slammed the door, and then paced for a few long moments before he caught a glint of silver from the nearby table- a mirror. A mirror he’d had for decades, and rarely had reason to use. He picked it up carefully with massive, clawed paws, and he cradled it in one paw as he wiped the layer of dust off it with the other, and then he looked into the smooth surface.

 

He could barely stand to look at himself, even now, after all these years.

 

“Show me the captive,” he said in a near growl, and the mirror shimmered for a moment before the redhead in the tower appeared. He was sitting against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes red-rimmed and distant. He was shivering, and he looked absolutely _crushed_.

 

And Percival had done that to him.

 

Percival shoved the mirror back onto the table with a low growl at himself. He was so far gone- surely there was no hope by now. It had been so long; did he even remember how to be human at all?

 

His servants still had faith in him; if it weren’t their lives at stake too, he would have given in to the beast in himself long ago. He just wished he had that same faith in himself.

 

* ~~~~~~ *

 

Newt wasn’t sure if this was actually happening, or if this was the most lucid nightmare he’d ever had in his life.

 

He’d gone looking for his brother only to find a giant castle in the middle of the woods- a castle inhabited by a werewolf who was not only fully turned during a crescent moon, but also entirely capable of holding a conversation while fully turned.

 

It was the kind of fantasy you read about in children’s books, the werewolf who was able to taunt its prey before it attacked. But this werewolf, while possessing a vicious temper, didn’t attack.

 

Sure, he was a total jerk, but he hadn’t attacked when one swipe of his claws would have killed both of them.

 

Even so, that was no guarantee he would continue to stay his hand- or paw, really, and now Newt was stuck here with him. The logical response would be to escape at his first opportunity, but…Newt hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that the creatures in the castle needed care. And if there was one thing Newt couldn’t bring himself to do, it was to abandon creatures that were in need of his help.

 

He shivered and curled up a little tighter against the chill, wondering if the werewolf would be willing to maybe give him a thicker blanket, at least; the cracked, barred window did little to keep the chill out of the small room. Asking for anything at all might be pushing his luck, though.

 

He heard a soft clicking noise, the sound of nails on stone, too light and quick to belong to a massive creature; instead, it was a Crup that came around the corner and then squeezed through the bars of the door. The canine trotted over to him, bright eyed and curious, and Newt chuckled as he uncurled a bit from the wall.

 

“Well, aren’t you cute?” he said, reaching out a hand for the Crup to sniff.

 

“I know I am. One of the few perks, really,” the Crup said.

 

The Crup. As in, the canine animal with fur and two tails and four legs. Newt just stared for a few long moments, his eyes wide, and then he burst out laughing.

 

“I’m losing it. Merlin, I’ve been in this tower for twenty minutes and I’m already losing my mind,” he said, his voice a bit frantic. A talking werewolf was one thing. A werewolf was human- sometimes- a humanoid animal, capable of speech in one form, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine that one might be able to speak in its other form.

 

This was a Crup. A dog. A dog was talking to him.

 

“Please don’t panic. You’re not going crazy, I promise you,” the Crup continued, sitting down on the stone floor. “My name is Tina.”

 

Newt practically whimpered. He was still quite convinced that he was going insane. “Tina. Right. Okay,” he said, nodding numbly. “The talking Crup is named Tina.”

 

“All of the creatures here can talk. Not just me,” Tina explained, her brown eyes focused intently on him in a very human way. Newt swallowed hard.

 

“The Kneazle?”

 

“My sister, Queenie.”

 

“And…the Hippogriff too?”

 

“That’s Ellis.”

 

“But…how?”

 

Tina stood up and walked in a quick circle, as if trying to rein in her canine instincts to always be moving, running, exploring. “That’s not important right now. What’s important is that the master said you don’t have to stay in the tower!” she said, and Newt blinked in surprise.

 

“The…master?”

 

“The werewolf,” Tina explained, her voice a little more somber now. “We call him the master, mostly, but you can call him Mr. Graves. He’ll be fine with it. Probably.”

 

“How is he turned when it’s not the full moon?” Newt blurted out, unable to resist his curiosity, but then there was another sound from outside the barred door, and Tina turned to face the Kneazle and the Niffler on the other side.

 

“This is Queenie and Jacob,” she said to Newt, and Newt hesitated, eyeing the creatures uncertainly.

 

“It’s alright, honey,” the Kneazle said, her tail swishing across the cold floor. “We know it’s a bit much to take in all at once. Especially after the rough day you’ve had.”

 

Newt laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I think ‘rough day’ is putting it mildly, to be honest,” he said, and the Niffler laughed.

 

“I like him already,” he said, eyeing Newt with beady eyes. “Sorry if any of your shiny stuff disappears while you’re here. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

 

For that, he got a smack on the arm from the Kneazle’s paw.

 

“Would you two stop messing about and get this door open? I can’t climb up there,” Tina said, and Queenie and Jacob climbed up to the top of the door and disappeared. Moments later, the iron bar holding it closed was pushed free, and Newt was beginning to accept that he wasn’t, in fact, dreaming.

 

He was in a castle in the woods that was full of talking creatures. Theseus was never going to believe this-

 

-not that he needed to worry about that. He would likely never be seeing his brother again.

 

The door swung open and the Kneazle dropped down and sauntered in, looking up at him with those huge blue eyes. “What you did for your brother was very brave,” she said softly. “It wont be so bad here, I promise. The master…he isn’t all that good at first impressions, but he’s not as awful as he seems to be.”

 

Newt had trouble believing that, but his insanity hadn’t escalated to the point where he was willing to argue with a talking Kneazle about the extent of a full-time werewolf’s temper. He stood up and took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly and dragged his fingers through his already messy hair.

 

“So…I get a bedroom that’s _not_ in the prison tower?” he asked, and Tina laughed, though it came out as half laugh and half bark.

 

“Of course. The biggest bedroom in the east wing, seeing as how it’s been sitting empty for a few decades now,” she said as she led the way out of the cell, and Newt stared after her.

 

“A few _decades_?” he repeated, but she was already headed down the stairs with Queenie and Jacob, and Newt had to hurry to catch up.

 

“We’ll get you settled in, and tomorrow you can meet Ellis and the others,” Queenie said, and she sounded so excited that he was here that it almost distracted Newt from the fact that he was a prisoner here, essentially.

 

But he couldn’t hold that against the poor creatures. It wasn’t them who’d tossed Theseus in a cell and left him to die. It wasn’t them who made Newt bargain his own life away to save his brother. No, that was all the supposedly ‘not so awful’ werewolf master of the castle.

 

Newt liked to think of himself as a fairly forgiving person, but it would take a whole lot more than one person’s word to convince him that the werewolf wasn’t as bad as he first seemed.

 

But for now, he could focus on the creatures; whether or not they could talk, they were still in desperate need of some care.

 

He jumped in surprise as he felt something scramble up his leg and back, but it turned out to just be Jacob; the Niffler got comfortable on his shoulder, though he was a bit heavy to be perched there like a parrot. “Thanks for offerin’ to look after us, by the way,” he said cheerfully, tiny paws clinging to the shoulder of Newt’s shirt. “Queenie’s got mats in her fur that we can’t get out, none of us can trim Tina’s nails; it’s impossible to garden or keep livestock like this, and Ellis can’t get out to hunt much, so he hasn’t had a decent meal in years.”

 

Newt frowned; things were worse here than he thought, and these were just the few creatures he’d met so far. “I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he said, already going through the necessary first steps in his mind. First priority: medical care for any creatures who had untreated injuries. Second, any immediate grooming needs causing discomfort or pain. Then he could worry about getting a garden going; and surely there were some wild goats or sheep nearby that he could lure in to start some livestock breeding here. The wolves in the woods had to be living on something, after all.

 

He couldn’t exactly go to the town market and buy things to get started. He would have to be creative.

 

“What’s your name, honey?” Queenie asked, and Newt cleared his throat.

 

“It’s Newt. Newt Scamander,” he said softly, just as they turned into a hallway with tall arched ceilings and intricate murals painted on the walls. They’d faded and flaked with age, but they seemed to be paintings of grand balls and royal events in this very castle.

 

Sometime, he was going to have to ask them what had happened to the royals who used to live here; but that could wait for another day. He was absolutely exhausted.

 

Besides, if things went the way the werewolf planned, Newt would have an entire lifetime to piece together what had happened here. The thought made him feel a little ill; he missed Theseus already, and he wasn’t sure he could trust the werewolf’s word that Theseus was returned safely home.

 

“Here we are!” Tina said, using her nose and paws to push open a huge door. Newt followed her into a room that was lit only by the light streaming through the windows, but that was enough to see that the room was _enormous_. It was bigger than his whole house back home; the bed alone was the size of the bedroom that he and Theseus crammed two small beds into. Newt turned around in a circle, taking it all in; he could tell that, under all the dust and cobwebs, it used to be something truly grand.

 

“Sorry about the mess. It’s not easy to clean without opposable thumbs,” Queenie said as she hopped up onto the bed and sent dust flying into the air. “There’s a small pond and a well out back that’s you can use to do laundry. And I’m sure we can dig you up some kind of clothes to wear; Merlin knows there’s enough dressers in this place just crammed with clothes. Might be a few seasons out of fashion, though.”

 

“That’s alright. I’m not exactly a trend setter,” Newt pointed out with a tired smile, and he turned toward the three creatures in the room. “Thank you, by the way. I know you’re doing your best to make this better for me. I just…”

 

“You want to go home,” Tina said softly, tails and ears drooping. “We know.”

 

“We’ll help try to convince the master to let you leave, honey. He’s sure to come around eventually,” Queenie said, her own ears twitching in a very feline way. “It’s not fair, you being stuck here forever.”

 

“I don’t want to leave until I’ve helped all of you,” Newt insisted. “I can at least figure out some workarounds so you can take better care of each other without a human to help you. That way if I do leave, you won’t be left in the same bad situation.”

 

“You’re a good guy, Mr. Scamander,” Jacob said as he hopped off Newt’s shoulder to the bed. “Anyone else would’ve run off by now.”

 

“Please, call me Newt,” Newt said with a weak smile. “I promised I’d help you, didn’t I?”

 

“Well, we’ll let you get some sleep,” Tina said with a pointed look aimed at the other two. “If you need anything, one of us will be around.”

 

With that, the three creatures left the room, and Queenie used a paw under the door to tug it shut behind her. Newt drew in another deep breath and just looked around for a few moments, unsure of what to do, or what to even think.

 

Maybe it was better _not_ to think about it tonight. Maybe if he went to bed he would wake up back at home in his tiny bed, with Theseus snoring feet away from him, the sun streaming in through thin, fraying curtains, and the Hippogriffs outside ready to demand their breakfast.

 

Maybe.

 

Probably not.

 

All the same, he tugged the dusty top blanket off the bed and slipped under the other blankets, and then he turned one of the pillows over to the less dusty side. Despite his anxiety, he was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

 

 

 


End file.
